


miss misanthrope (oh, russian doll)

by EtceterasEverywhere



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, dan/danna, phil/fiona, the story is in the 1980'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtceterasEverywhere/pseuds/EtceterasEverywhere
Summary: Fiona is a demotivated writer that creates too many fantasy worlds for herself; luckily for her, Danna is not imaginary at all.Also called: After another attempt of running away Fiona runs into Danna; time passes between brown eyes and little paper knights, and Fiona decides that maybe staying is better than escaping.





	miss misanthrope (oh, russian doll)

**Author's Note:**

> heyo! ^___^
> 
> this is my second published fic for this fandom! who would have thought that i would have made it?  
> thanks to the Phandom Fic Fests! thank you for giving me the opportunity to put my stories out there! the femslash february idea was an amazing one and i'm so glad i could participate!
> 
> also thanks to my amazing [beta](https://heartfeltfangirl.tumblr.com)! Laura you're such an amazing person, thank you for being a part of this whole process and thank you for dealing with my horrible grammar :)
> 
> the title was inspired by [miss misanthrope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbwygNFgSN8) a song by Jealous of the birds, go give it a listen!

_(fiona fears these supposed realities are to melt from under her feet and hands)_

“Fiona, Fiona, Fiona”

The footsteps were loud on the wooden floor, reverberating to the sound of each repetition of her name. At this point, Fiona no longer recognized _Fiona_ as a word. She sat quietly before this man - her father’s friend- who looked disappointed.

“You know you won't be able to make money with one of your books if you keep writing these kinds of stories.”

A sharp blow and Fiona looked up at the desk, the pile of pages that integrate her manuscript were scattered before her eyes. A small fire of fury caught fire in her chest.

“I know we live in times where women write books and express their ideas, but there is no way anyone is going to read a fantasy book written by a woman. Wake up! Leave adventures, heroes and fantastic worlds to men who know how to create them.”

Fiona looked down into her lap again, her knuckles were pale, even paler than her own skin. The fire in her chest grew, threatening to burn the last bit of reason left in her head; she did not know what was more powerful, the desire to yell at this man or the fear for the repercussions.

“Why don't settle for writing romantic stories? Girls like you love handsome men, don't you? Don't all girls your age write about love stories they'd like to live? Finding a handsome young man that marries them and build a family?”

_Calm down, Fiona. He is your father's friend, and your only way to even fulfill your dreams._

“Isn't that what you want? Or are you like one of those deviants, defenders of that _feminism movement_ , because if you-”

The fact that Fiona had risen so suddenly surprised her as much as this man who she was disgusted to even have to look at. The dizziness returned, and Fiona felt she could throw up on this man, and cry as she shouted at him.

In the end, none of these options were chosen when Fiona only took her manuscript with trembling hands and left the office without looking at that man, who was impressed by her abrupt actions.

_Well, you just ruined any chance you had to publish a book. Well done, Fiona._

Now not only her hands were shaking, but also she felt trembling even her own heart. She wasn’t used to run, but maybe this warranted it, she just needed to escape from her own reality. Even if she had only five seconds before facing it, a reality without a chance to rest and catch her own breath.

The dress she had worn that morning made it impossible for her to run very fast, and at that moment she regretted dressing so elegantly for a complete moron that was the perfect representation of man's thinking in the society of which she was a part of. She was "part of" in an ironic way, because it was obvious that she was not really a part of it.

Several people were staring at her, the worst thing was that she was aware of every look and every whisper, which only made her ability to breathe decrease more and more. She felt like she was in flames, burning inside, burning down every dream she might ever have had.

She wanted to go to the highest of the mountains, to one of the cliffs which were miles from London. She wanted to throw away all of her stupid manuscript, all those pages into which she had poured all of her heart, all of her time. All of her hopes. She just wanted to get rid of everything, she wanted to go home to her mother, cover her ears to each one of the "I told you so" that there were going to come once she stepped into her parents' home, and just hide in their kitchen; ask her mum to teach her how to make cakes and just comply to the life she was destined to have.

A husband, children, a house.

It sounded easy, it sounded too easy.

From running so much, Fiona didn't realize she had reached the edge of the Thames. Small silhouettes of boats and ships passing by helped her to focus a little bit. Now, with the wind on her face, she realized the humidity on her cheeks. She raised her hand to her face, running her fingers along the paths that her tears had made.

Her hands still trembled, clutching her manuscript weakly. Fiona felt that she could release all the papers and let them sink into the Thames, freeing themselves, flying and then falling as poetically as possible. A simple metaphor of her experiences as a writer so far.

“Miss, are you alright?”

A soft voice made her come out of her trance, almost making her dreams of letting all her effort fly in vain, come true. Fiona turned around stumbling and rushing towards the origin of the soft voice; soft and oh, so reassuring.

The origin of the voice uttered a small complaint, hurrying to catch Fiona's manuscript and Fiona herself. If Fiona wasn't too embarrassed already, this time it was likely that the levels of shame had reached unimaginable levels; with her face burning, she was sure she looked like a tomato.

“I'm sorry, sorry. I-”

A slight clash of glances. If the voice had seemed soft to her before, the image in front of her was the complete graphic representation of _soft_. A beautiful rounded face, with small curls escaping from a perfectly framed bun. Eyelashes that fell softly on rosy cheeks. And yet even though she was frowning, this young woman was the most beautiful person she could have ever seen.

Fiona felt uncomfortable with her red face, tears on her cheeks, a poorly colored ash and dark purple hair that was probably a mess at this point, and a fire on her chest that threatened to burn her if she didn't faint first.

She felt hideous in the presence of an angel.

“Do you want me to help you?”

The question was so softly pronounced by pink lips, they were so perfect that Fiona got lost in them. Lips so rounded she wondered how they would feel on her skin, how it would feel to run a finger through them.

A throat clearing sound brought her back to reality. She had spent too much time looking at the lips of a stranger; she, a young woman, was looking at the lips of another young woman for a time that should be considered inappropriate. Would she be disgusted? Would she throw her manuscript- that the young woman was still holding in her hands- away?

With a little uncertainty she looked into her eyes, noticing the slight blush that ran down her cheeks to that small patch of skin that reddened vividly.

Yes, Fiona should stop staring at this stranger. She should stop making poetry of her image, and stop making strange metaphors of how sweet locks of hair delicately waved in the wind.

But she did not dare, she did not dare to leave that world. She did not dare to put this young woman in a world that was not part of this big fantasy that was sometimes stirred in Fiona's head. People in real life weren't good, they weren't delicate, they didn't have rosy cheeks and kind eyes that glowed when the sunlight lit them.

Girls in real life didn't fall in love with other girls.

A little apology and Fiona was gone.

 

* * *

  _(fiona’s true body and soul appear before her)_

So that's how it would be, to follow all the established rules, to be well known and then make people not care about what she writes and just publish it. That's how everything will work.

Fiona sat at her desk with a bunch of new blank sheets and her quill. After a long day working in two schools that were closest to where she lived, Fiona liked to write, that had always been her dream anyways. That had been the motivation that prompted her to leave her parents' home and move to London. The big city, the big and expensive city she would not have been able to stay in had it not been for her father's help.

The place where she lived was a big house with a really wise and elder woman who liked to help young people like her have a little more opportunity in a city as big as this one. With her sons and daughters already fending for themselves, she was someone who was always willing to help and also had loads of time to spend. Fiona still couldn't thank her enough for welcoming her _under her wings_ , as the same woman had said the day she met her.

With a lit candle, Fiona set out to write something new. The incident with her father's friend had been weeks ago, weeks in which it had been hard for Fiona to find some motivation again. Weeks since the brown-eyed young woman didn't leave her mind.

Between distractions and pitiful mental block, Fiona had not written anything again. She had not even dared to look at her manuscript again; it was locked up somewhere in her room, she was sure that if she saw all that bunch of sheets again she would throw them out the window.

But here she was again. Thinking of brown eyes and with an almost mandatory motivation, willing to risk writing something she didn't like at all in order to fulfill her dreams. Here she was again with her little candle illuminating correctly her desk and little flowers outside her window leaning perfectly. Notes properly attached to her room’ walls and the wind gently coming through the window. The branches of the trees moving in a coordinated way and the-

And distraction winning again.

She would never fulfill his dreams if she didn't write a book of romance with a hero who rescues his damsel. The story would have to be something that sells, something that _makes money._ Despite the fact that whoever said that was a bloody moron, maybe he was right. Nobody here would buy a book about gods and monsters, an adventure without a romantic love story, not one written by a woman.

A protagonist, then, that is what is liked, right? That's what would attract attention; a protagonist with impressive blue eyes and long hair to impress. A brave man who has never fallen in love, someone who feels alone, so alone among all his endless adventures. A character with lame dialogues and a cheesy past, with a simple but striking story.

It sounded simple.

A gentleman with impressive blue eyes who wanders alone and has no one to give him company. That only has the company of a notebook into which he can pour all his thoughts.

A young man who has left his parents' home to look for his own adventures, not resigned to the simple destiny of getting married and running the family business. An adventurer who has been able to take a few suitcases and explore the world, who has dared to leave his comfort zone to meet people, to visit unimaginable places and fight with the demons that lurk in the strangest places.

A man who has had the resources to leave his family home, who has been brave enough to get his own destiny and not fail incredibly at it, not like-

Fiona.

The window was still open, and suddenly the wind came into the room with great violence this time, extinguishing the candle that was lit; leaving her in the dark. Fiona buried her fingers in her hair, she was projecting herself into her own writing, again. Well, this was the problem when she wrote humans as characters and not monsters and wonderful places, fantasy worlds where it wouldn't matter if a little Fiona would show up to visit.

_Just a little, Fiona, just a few books about romance and you'll be known.You will write about fantasy worlds and monsters that attack the strangest territories._

“Yes, Fiona. Just a little more, although who knows, maybe a pseudonym can help you publish your first book faster,” a little voice remarked somewhere in the middle of the darkness.

Fiona lifted her head quickly, her eyes that were slowly adapting to the darkness couldn’t distinguish very well where this voice came from.

She urgently lit her candle again and closed the windows.

In front of her was a small figure with very bright armor. Hair of a colour as dark as the night itself, skin too pale and eyes of a surprising deep blue. The figure looked at her curiously, with small eyes too human to be just the product of her imagination.

“I've finally gone mad, it was to be expected.”

The serenity Fiona was in was a strange state she had never been in before. Just looking at blue eyes- that looked exactly as her own- that looked back at her with concern, filled her with a strange calm.

Oh, the calm found in knowing that she had finally gone mad.

 

* * *

  _(fiona says ‘whoever you are now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem’)_

This seemed like the beginning of a story, the beginning of a new chapter, of a new adventure. Protagonist to whom a strange event happens, protagonist who presents themselves with a problem in their hands and the resolution of such will bring them a good end and the fulfillment of all their problems.

It should be considered a bad thing to think of this whole thing as if it was a written story, rushing to read the last page instead of reading everything at the right time. Fiona has never been a patient person, nor has she been very good at thinking about the process involved in getting what she wants, just looking to the future, just thinking about what she is going to get once the hard part happens; this always ending in inevitable disappointment.

But well, it's not like they can sue her for the way her head works, right?

Even though she was sure that the little version of her- Felipe, as she called him- would find a way to sue her for it.

For some reason this little version of herself in armor was much braver than her and much wiser as well, which was completely strange considering it was a version of her. Fiona in none of her possible versions could be considered brave or confident, not like this little figure who would argue about anything with her, who would tell her that she should talk one way or another and that she should trust herself more.

It was already a week since Felipe appeared without any explanation, and he already had Fiona's world upside down. Trying to get Fiona to trust herself more and to be more outgoing, it doesn’t need to be said that this didn't work out too well.

Fiona was thinking of Felipe, of his perfectly black hair, his correct position, and his little armor. If it weren't for almost setting himself on fire about twenty times since he arrived and the way that all the things he used were scattered, Fiona would deny any resemblance to the little knight.

Fiona also thought of brown eyes, eyes she had also written about until she got tired. Eyes and person that had not materialized like Felipe.

She had tried- to materialize the young woman- since the incident of the little gentleman, something that was object of mockery to Felipe, because _Fiona should look for her and talk to her, and not just write about her, the way in which she romanticized her was not fair for neither of them, wouldn't she prefer something more real? she didn't even know her and she was already only falling in love with an idea._

Apparently the little knight also liked to criticize every single thing Fiona did, even though she knew exactly what she was doing, kinda. She had done it for a long time before and it had never caused her any problems; the fact that he was right was not the point.

It wasn't bad to write about her as if she were one of the characters she wrote, she knew deep down that she could never find her again, and even if she did, she could never be the love of her life. It would not be like in her writings, it would not be the light in her life that would save her from herself and give her the happy ending of her story. Fiona knew that real life didn't work like the stories she liked to read, but she still didn't dare accept it.

Dreaming about brown eyes and soft hands between hers was what she had left, even though it only caused a phantom pain in her chest.

Dreaming about brown eyes is what led her to collide with the figure in front of the place where she lived.

“Miss, are you alright?”

That voice. Although that voice had already been lost between her memories, as soon as she listened to it, it turned a light on in Fiona's head. The word _soft_ connected with _you've already written too much about her, Fiona, I'm sure I could draw those eyes that you describe so much to me by heart without even having seen them._

Even after having dared to look at a face she remembered clearly, Fiona couldn't feel the words making sense in her head. An imminent shameful moment where she would definitely faint would come, as Fiona's cheeks were burning at this point and she could no longer breathe.

As if it was part of a dream, the young woman smiled, showing small dimples on her cheeks, and Fiona ran away.

For some reason that was a constant in her life. Running, running away from things that scared her. 

As she closed the door to her room, she found Felipe by the window, with a smirk that indicated he had seen the scene.

“Smooth.”

“Shut up.”

Fiona threw herself into her mattress, trying not to think of the reasons why the young woman would be in front of the place where she lived. Trying not to imagine a world in which she would move into the next room, in which she would approach Fiona even though she had already embarrassed herself twice. Trying not to create a world in which the young woman would fall in love with her and save Fiona from her own loneliness, offering her a world Fiona could only dream of.

Perhaps it was easier to dream than face reality.

“You think she's the love of your life.”

Not a question, Fiona noticed, just a simple confirmation.

“Do you want me to write more of your story?” Fiona said without even daring to respond to that.

Although it was something she had intended to do, Fiona hadn't written anything about the book that was supposed to make her famous enough to publish the manuscript that was still locked in some drawer.

“As if you had written more of that,” Felipe retorted wittily.

“Well, I've been distracted.”

“With brown eyes and a mandatory motivation, yes.”

Fiona gave Felipe a look that silenced him.

“I can write things, you're going to see me. I'm going to write you a damsel and a great story, of which you're going to be the hero.”

Despite moving her hands so vigorously, Fiona was still lying on her bed with no motivation or desire to write more than stories of young brown-eyed girls who met blue-eyed damsels and saved them from their own destiny.

“You're not going to write me a romance story in which I go with someone alone for the company without even knowing the person. That's not how love works, love is a long process, it's not found in damsels in danger.”

“What do you know about love?”

“I know more than you apparently.”

Felipe was in the same position as Fiona now, lying on her mattress and looking at the ceiling. Fiona could swear that she could listen to his little heartbeat, even though that would have to be impossible.

Ideas were spinning in her head. Of course she doesn't know much about love, and of course she knows that romance shouldn't feel that way either. Only, isn't that how romance stories were written? Not that Fiona had read any romance stories either, or many books written by women; it's not like many women's books are published either, apart from books of poetry and social topics.

Where did she even get the idea that romance books written by women were popular?

Perhaps the conversation with that man affected her more than it should have.

“Maybe you could write the story of a gentleman who falls in love with another,” he jumped on the mattress, raising his hand like he was holding a sword. “Two gentlemen who go rescue the same damsel, seeking to fulfill prophecies of their own kingdoms; and start as rivals and they try to hate each other but find friendship in a stupid mandatory quest and fall in love. It's still romance.”

Fiona frowned, “nobody's going to buy a book like that, Felipe.”

“I would.”

“Oh, shut up,” Fiona said sharply, she wasn’t going to humour Felipe with this.

“At least that way a version of us can stay with the brunette.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, Fiona got up, feeling a sharp sound piercing into her ears and the room spinning. Maybe she wanted to throw her chair out the window, throw herself out the window, destroy her papers, destroy Felipe. A wave of anger ran through her body.

How dare he? How the hell does he dare?

“Oh, Fiona, I-”

A knock on the door helped her stabilize at least a little.

“Fiona?” a voice said through the door.

Without thinking about her emotional state or the fact that she was still in her work uniform, Fiona opened the door with unexpected energy.

On the other side was the landlady with a kind smile and eyes that hid some concern for her, but Fiona knew that the concern was not present just because she did not want to frighten the young woman that Fiona realized was hiding behind the woman.

A view of a pair of brown eyes and Fiona knew she was finally lost.

 

* * *

  _(fiona thinks 'I should have made my way straight to you long ago')_

"I feel like at some point you're going to get tired of me," Danna opens the door and lets appear those dimples that make Fiona melt, "aren't you already tired of me?"

Danna, _the brown-eyed young woman_ , waltzed her way into Fiona's life in such a quiet and peaceful way. Between encounters that became more and more common, the incidents of the first two times they met each other were completely forgotten, incidents that neither of them mentioned anymore to Fiona's relief.

Fiona's feelings weren’t mentioned either, not even by Felipe who had loved to remind Fiona that the best way to solve things was by talking to her brown-eyed lady and looking for her, and to not wait for her to show up at the door of her room once by magic; something that to Felipe's annoyance was exactly what had happened.

Just as Fiona's feelings and the impossible way she fell for Danna were not mentioned, neither was the way Fiona bathed in her own illusions every single day. Taking advantage of the fact that her fantasies became real and considering that maybe she could have a story where she could get her happy ending.

Fiona forgets that Danna is not going to save her and that at the end of the day, a requited love may not be part of her story.

Any plan to gain immediate fame and success, and even Felipe had been forgotten by this beautiful character and the fantasy that Fiona wrote for herself.

"Are you going to come in," a smirk, "or do you want this to be our new meeting place?"

Danna turned out to be everything Fiona dreamed of and even more, with an intelligent mind and a completely sweet personality. Fiona really couldn't help but fall in love with her more and more, something she knew from the beginning, that hers was a hopeless case.

 _The perfect character for your story_ , Felipe had said with a tone of reproach, always having something to say as soon as Fiona returned from Danna's room, a place she always found herself coming back to.

Felipe's words always end up getting to her somehow, even if she always hides them in between layers of anger. Is that what she wanted? Did she want to continue chasing illusions and writing a ghost story to improve the life she didn’t want to have?

Sometimes Fiona stares at Danna when she is in the middle of a monologue about her opinions, something Fiona would never be tired of. Sometimes she looks at those strands of hair that fall on her face and thinks she wants to run her fingers through them. Sometimes she sees into her eyes and feels like crying because of the surrealism of everything.

Perhaps Fiona has not yet dared to include Danna in her reality, in her life; preferring to stay in this bubble with her, in this fantastic world in which reality was not allowed. Danna deserved more than this version of a Russian doll that Fiona was giving her, more than a character role in the great story that was Fiona's life.

Fiona opens her mouth to say something, but words always find a way to make no sense in Danna's presence.

A simple smile, and Fiona takes Danna's hand so she can enter her room. No secondary thoughts or pessimistic thoughts; if she was going to stay in this illusion a little longer, at least she wanted to enjoy every minute that  it lasts.

All of Fiona wants all of Danna, and it cannot be otherwise.

 

* * *

  _(fiona whispers 'I pursue you where none else has pursued you')_

“I know you barely a month and I feel like there wasn’t anything before you," Fiona smiled as she rolled towards the edge of the bed where Danna was sitting.

Without taking her eyes off the papers in her lap, Danna laughed a little; she didn’t answer, but Fiona saw the effect of her words on the little red patch on her cheek, that single thing makes her smile more.

“Didn’t they even read your book?" she frowned without even looking at Fiona, with a distinct tone of anger in her voice.

At Danna's insistence, Fiona had freed her manuscript from the dungeon where she had kept it all this time. There was something about Danna that made her want to try new things, get out of her limits and face her fears; something that neither she or Philip had been able to achieve.

Fiona didn't answer, but the fact that Danna called all the things she wrote long ago a “book” makes her flush. _Yeah, someday that’ll be a book and she’ll be there by my side to see it happen._

Fiona hides in the folds of Danna's dress, certainly not caring how that action steps on the boundaries of their friendship. Were there boundaries with your female friends anyway? Was there some universal law in which closeness to your friends can mean something more than a platonic relationship?

Questions that Fiona preferred not to answer as she smelled the faint perfume that flooded her body. It didn't matter as long as she had Danna by her side, any wrong feeling didn't matter as long as she could see her every day.

 _You've fallen in love, I've always knew it_ , Felipe had told her with a sad tone in his voice. Perhaps she had, but before knowing Danna that only seemed part of an illusion, and now it looked so close to reality that the full weight of the consequences of falling in love with Danna fell onto her.

It was not normal or common, but honestly who cared? Even if Fiona had the courage to tell Danna everything she felt for her, she wasn't sure if she would take it well, despite her wonderful open mind, that could only end on the disappointment of an unrequited love.

Out of the blue, Danna's hands found her hair, slowly caressing her head as if she was caressing a small animal. Fiona loved to be petted in that way, there was something in that movement that was done so naturally, it made her feel that not everything would have to end soon, or not have to end in any case. She could only continue in this grey area where her feelings could only be interpreted as simple platonic affection.

"I feel like I could travel with you anywhere in the world."

Apparently this grey area also included telling Danna about the daydreams she had already written, about the things she had already planned for the future with an idealized version of her.

 _Wrong_ , Philip had said, _you have to tell her the truth about yourself, you have to admit your feelings. Write her something if you don't want to tell her everything in her face, tell her that you had dreamt of her before and that was impossible for you to not fall for her._

“Yeah?" Danna finally put Fiona’s work aside and gave all her attention to Fiona's hair, playing with it, freeing it from the bun she made every morning, combing it with her fingers. Her voice sounded warm and fond.

"I imagine us somewhere far away from here, in one of those warm, tropical places. Far from the grey clouds of London," Fiona whispered as if it were a secret.

Danna looked happy, she looked so happy like if from that moment she was unable to say no to any of Fiona's requests. She was sure that if she told Danna to pack her bags, she would follow her without even thinking.

"We could go to so many places and buy a house, you could learn piano as you’ve always wanted to while I write all the books I’ve wanted to write. We could have a cherry tree with those beautiful pink flowers that fall so gently in fall."

_You love her, Fiona, of course you do. You'd be able to run away with her and it wouldn't matter as long as she looked at you that way._

Danna looked at her with wet eyes and rosy cheeks with oh so sweet dimples, it looked like maybe she loved her back. There was still a chance that both of them could have a happy ending.

Though she knew all what she was saying were just only her fantasies, it could be that what she was seeing was something she wanted to see. The doubt was always there, maybe Fiona couldn't let herself be happy, she couldn't really afford to run with Danna by her side just because she was afraid.

"I write too much about adventures, you know? I feel like sometimes I can't distinguish reality from my imagination anymore, it can be a little bit inconvenient," it seemed like a plea, it seemed like a _please don't leave my side even if I'm scared._

In the end, Felipe's words were always coming to her, just like Danna's words. In the end, Fiona begins to believe that it may not be so bad to get out of the rooms where she locks herself in, like a Russian doll. This time it might be worth it.

"Sometimes you need a distraction. The world sucks in general," Danna laughed. "I even spend more time imagining things, fearing a little what’s outside my mind."

Fiona moved her head until she’s looking directly at Danna, without taking her head off her lap, "I never would have thought you would do that too. You look so confident, it’s like nothing could hurt you."

Danna looked fond as she slowly denied with her head, "you have such a silly head, Fiona."

"You worry too much about everything." A chuckle, "you can keep imagining things, reality is always more interesting that way. Besides, every time you go to your little world, it's extraordinary. You are extraordinary.”

Fiona moved her head a little on her lap and looked into her eyes, maybe she wanted to cry a little for Danna and for the beautiful way her head works. She took the hand that still passed through her hair and brought it closer to her lips; she perceived a slight smell of flowers before leaving a kiss on her palm.

"Maybe...maybe I can afford to make my dreams come true."

 

* * *

  _(fiona is told 'you have not known what you are, you have slumber'd upon yourself all your life')_

"Remember you are me, alright?"

Fiona turned her face so she was looking at the ceiling of her room. She could never be like Felipe, she was not the amazing adventurer she created when she wrote him that first time.

"You are as brave as I am. I am brave because you are, I am the reflection of who you are. It doesn't matter if I'm a gentleman and you're a lady, Fiona. We are the same person, each one of those qualities that you admire in me you have them."

Fiona turned to see the little paper man next to her.

"To begin with you have that perfect black hair, while mine is violet and gray, a bad joke," she tried to joke, knowing very well what Felipe meant.

"Oh, shut up."

"I don't feel brave enough to tell her everything, to tell her about my feelings,. Not yet. Especially not when I know she's likely to feel uncomfortable and leave my side forever."

Felipe climbs into Fiona's stomach, trying to look at her with the best threatening look he had.

"Don't be dramatic, according to what you told me she may love you as much as you love her."

"It's rash to say that."

Felipe let out a sound of frustration, "oh come on."

Fiona feels the gentleman move with great speed after that, not daring to see what he was planning, Fiona just huddles more in her bed. Whatever Felipe was planning to do was likely to end up convincing her to do it, maybe Fiona just needed that little push to go to the next room and tell Danna everything she felt.

Of course, that’ll happen not without Fiona pretending that nothing existed and that she could stay there in her bed having the life she had always had.

It sounded easy.

But Fiona had learned that sometimes she had to allow herself to be a _buffoon_ , as Danna had told her. Maybe sometimes she had to allow herself to be a fool, and also allow herself to be in love. _"Silly and in love_ ," that could be the title of her autobiography.

"Well, here it is," Felipe had a piece of paper that Fiona recognized well. It was one of the first poems he ever wanted to read to Danna because of how much it reminded of her, how much it reminded her to have all those feelings for her.

Fiona utters a small sound of disgust, only to play with Felipe who carried an expression too serious for him. Although at first he was just a small annoyance that she only argued with, now he had become an important part of her.

_I am you, Fiona. We are no different in any way, we are still just you and me._

That was it then.

Fiona stood up and took the paper that Philip pulled from somewhere. Before leaving through the door, Fiona turned around to see Felipe in the same place where he first appeared; Fiona realized that this moment felt like a farewell.

Oh, how much she would miss the little knight.

"I want you to know, Felipe, that you wrote me back as much as I wrote you. I thank you from the depths of my heart." Her voice was a little broken, she felt like crying. "Someday I will write you the gentleman you’ve always wanted."

Felipe chuckled, "With beautiful brown eyes and sweet curls? I hope so, Fiona. See you soon.”

And with a last glance at Felipe's deep blue eyes, Fiona closed the door.

 

* * *

  _(fiona proclaims 'I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you')_

Sometimes you have a writer's block, which is not so much like that, it's like a life block. Everything loses color and meaning, words that before gave you life and a way to get around everything, become strange ink figures with a color so dark that it is no longer part of the outside world.

Reality, losing all the color and vigor it once had, has become opaque and meaningless. Just like being chased by a herd of beasts into a dark dead end, you can't see anything and can't think clearly enough to think of a solution. Sometimes it's just fog in a dark alley and the uncertainty of how you can improve a situation.

Fiona feels this way the moment she sees how Danna’s eyes had become dull.

Maybe, anyway, it's better to face something by disconnecting from the same problem. She is no longer Fiona and no longer Danna; she is just this beautiful brown-eyed character with a sad look and soft hands, a damsel in danger waiting to be rescued by the blue-eyed young woman with hair darker than the very night.

It's easy to pretend that you can write a happy ending to this beautiful character, to Danna, and just get away from it. Pretend that the blue-eyed gentleman is still present somewhere inside herself, pretend that maybe Fiona wants to take that gentleman's place and be strong enough. Pretend she’s not the huge dragon that holds the beautiful protagonist captive, a clumsy, sad dragon who knows nothing more than telling the same story over and over again.

But Felipe had told her that she was brave and that she could be enough. Maybe Fiona can finally become the best version of herself.

Fiona takes one of Danna's hands and enters her room, closing the door in her way inside. She makes Danna sit on her bed and she kneels in front of her.

Danna looks at her as if she doesn't know exactly who Fiona is; light dark rings around her eyes, telling the story of a bad day.

Maybe it's not the correct time, but Fiona can't think of anything else to do. She has to tell Danna about how she feels, she has to tell her that in this part of the world there's someone who loves her even when some days are darker than others. 

Fiona takes the paper out of her pocket and starts reciting the poem written on it, avoiding to look at Danna. Everything seems to be part of a dream, going so fast and so slow at the same time; the weight of her chest is too much and Fiona doesn't know if it's because of the nervousness of finally telling Danna what she feels or because the concern she feels for a pair of dull eyes and empty words.

_"Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem,_

_I whisper with my lips close to your ear,_

_I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you._

_O I have been dilatory and dumb,_

_I should have made my way straight to you long ago,_

_I should have blabb'd nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you."_

That was it, those were her feelings exposed in front of Danna. Even inside her mind Fiona could hear Philip's voice saying _you are brave, I am because you are_. Yes, maybe now she could be start to believe those words.

"Fiona..."

Danna's voice sounded broken. Fiona looks at her and sees eyes full of tears, then she realizes that she has also begun to cry.

Fiona passes a hand over Danna's cheek, wiping the tears that made their way to her chin. _I'll take care of you_ , she thinks, _I'll take care of you and you'll be fine_.

The moment Fiona wraps her arms around Danna, she starts to cry louder, little whimpers go out of her lips as she hides in Fiona's neck. By the time Fiona feels Danna's agitated heartbeat, everything becomes more real, she would no longer be a character or an idealization. It was Danna and she had already become the most real thing Fiona had ever had, she would imagine more things and travel from world to world, but Danna would always be a constant in all of these.

Fiona starts crying louder, too; coming out of the last layer of her structure, finally being vulnerable with herself and Danna.

"I didn't think I'd be able to cry," Danna sadly murmurs, still hidden in her neck.

In Fiona's chest begins a phantom pain. Of course Danna would not be the perfect idealized person she had dreamed of, she was now part of her reality, and even with sadness in between Fiona didn't think she could love her any less. Danna had not appeared to save her, she had appeared so both, she and Fiona, would find a place to belong to, a place that would always be reserved for the other; there and at any other time, for any other version of themselves.

"Why do you say that?"

"Sometimes my head goes behind this dark curtain and it is difficult to feel something or get up in the morning because of it. You once told me that I didn't seem to be afraid, but the truth Fiona is that I'm very scared all the time," one sob, "I feel like this is why you won't to talk to me anymore, because I'm not the person you’ve always wanted.”

Fiona separates Danna from herself, grabbing her cheeks and staring at her, "Don't be silly, Danna, you're more than what I ever expected. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met. Thank you for appearing in the life of this buffoon."

Tears stream down Danna's cheeks, she's not able to look at Fiona anymore so she closes her eyes and puts her hands over Fiona's hands.

Fiona leans her forehead against Danna's, still with her hands on her cheeks, and whispers some words as if she’s sharing the greatest secret in the universe.

"I love you, Danna. I have accepted it and now the love that has been in my heart comes out of my chest just wanting to show you how much love I feel."

Danna lets out a little laugh and even with her eyes closed she whispers on Fiona's lips, "yes, I love you too."

Perhaps for Fiona this was the first of many happy endings, perhaps in the end her story would always be about how one brown-eyed girl met another blue-eyed girl and how in the irregular reality of their lives they wrote the greatest adventure they could have ever imagined.

 

* * *

  _(it makes me smile to know you are alright)_

Maybe she's not in a house near the sea with rooms that smell like vanilla, homemade desserts, and that delicious smell of salt water she promised to never forget the first time Danna urged her to go on adventures to the Isle of Man. Maybe she's not listening to the soft sounds that seem to come from her partner's heart every time she plays the piano, maybe she hasn't even bought a piano for her.

Maybe she hasn't gotten a publisher or someone who wants to see her manuscript yet and maybe she's not yet the writer she's been hoping to be.

Things take time, Fiona thinks, sometimes things are not instantaneous like in stories.

Sometimes Danna stays days behind _the dark curtain_ , sometimes Fiona is afraid she won't be able to achieve her happy ending and starts to detach herself too much from reality. But sometimes Danna and Fiona spend days looking for new adventures, traveling to the nearest coast, visiting the fields where Danna's parents live and the north where Fiona's parents are.

Even in the eyes of anyone who wants to see it, Danna and Fiona are inseparable, and they love each other as much as two women could, and that is never going to be questioned.

For Fiona, meeting Danna has been the biggest adventure she could have ever embarked on. It wouldn't matter if they decided to buy a house with all their savings, without even being able to buy a simple piece of furniture. At least that way Fiona's autobiography won't have to change its name.

_**~Fin~** _

**Author's Note:**

> the titles of each of the parts (minus the last one) are part of the poem that Fiona recites to Danna, which is "To You" by Walt Whitman! 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> don't forget to leave a comment if you think is worth it!
> 
> come leave your questions or any kind of greet you want at [tumblr!](http://etceteraseverywhere.tumblr.com/)  
> you can reblog the fic there, too! :D


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